Gemotions

"The keys are in my pocket!" Mark yelled at the tow truck driver, but the driver just ignored him. Mark had just been inside for five minutes to get a cup of coffee. Five minutes! He hadn't seen the sign. Now, the tow truck was halfway down the block.

He’d worked his entire life, saving and planning, to get to where he was. The car, the house, were symbols of his accomplishments, of his efforts to accumulate. He'd never been in this situation before.

At the impound lot, he felt a knot of resentment. The fine was outrageous. He had his own ideas for the money, and this was an uncalled-for deduction. He argued, his voice a strained whisper as he stared at the car. He would get his money back. He always did. He'd have to make up for this, make even more than he had before.